You're Just the Part of Me
by QuickSilverFox3
Summary: Goodnight has to come clean about the letters his family had been sending him. [Goodnight Robicheaux x Billy Rocks]


Goodnight had many mistakes in his life. He had lied and conned his way into so many situations, and then lied and conned his way out of them again. Billy was the one thing he'd done right in his life, even his friendship with Sam held its rocky beginnings when he was younger and stupid. But ever since that first fateful day when he walked into the dark little bar and saw Billy's fist connect with a man's face, blood and spittle flying, his hair loose; it had been a gift.

"I got a letter from my family."

Billy raised his hat to stare up at Goodnight, head comfortably resting against his thigh as Goodnight had claimed the only chair in the small cabin. It was a strange configuration of limbs to an outsider but it worked for them: Billy lying mostly underneath Goodnight's outstretched leg, using the other as a cushion; Goodnight reclined, one hand holding up whatever disintegrating book he plucked from their saddlebags while the other idly carded through Billy's hair.

"What about?" Billy asked with a sigh, one thumb pressing against a knife at his belt, the other settling the hat back on his head, blocking out the final rays of the setting sun.

"They want me back, what else?" Goodnight chuckled, plucking the cigarette from Billy's lips and placing it to his own, "I did not leave under the best of circumstances."

Billy let out a sharp bark of laughter, rapping his knuckles against Goodnight's knee in admonishment, wriggling up from his previous reclined position with a grunt.

"What was this most recent one about?" Billy asked, more from a force of habit than expecting an actual answer. He had seen countless letters find their way to Goodnight, a downside of his famous surname; all in the same thick paper which burnt so well on the cold nights on the road.

"The usual," Goodnight answered; his usual, rambling conversations which soothed Billy to sleep always cut short when the subject of his family came up. He sighed, rubbing at his tired eyes, feeling the allure of sleep pull at him before he sat up, ignoring Billy's hissed grumbling.

"I regret how I left. I should have made it clearer that I wasn't coming back, rather than just disappear in the middle of the night. Maybe then, they wouldn't keep hounding me around America to do something that I will never do," Goodnight stopped, forcing himself to relax, uncurling his hands from the fists he had curled them into. He could see the glint of Billy's eyes from beneath the hat, focused entirely on him.

"I love you Billy Rocks," Goodnight said after a few long heartbeats of silence, Billy raising his hand so Goodnight could interlock their fingers, callouses fitting together perfectly.

"I love you too ae-in," Billy replied, his voice barely louder than the wind that rustled the dry grass around them, meant for Goodnight's ears alone.

"They want me to get married."

Outwardly, Billy didn't react, retaining his indulgent position against Goodnight's leg, but Goodnight knew better. Billy's teeth were clenched tight enough to shatter, thumb pressing into the sheathed knife with enough force to draw blood.

"I should have told them about my... Inclinations. I regret that. But I can make this right Billy."

Billy shot upright, knocking the hat from his head as he scrambled to his feet, hands like a vice on both of Goodnight's legs, mouth opened as if to yell-

"Marry me Billy Rocks?"

Billy froze, inches away from Goodnight's face, close enough to see the wheels stutter to a halt in his head, eyes wide, a flicker of fear in the depths.

"I only want you, nobody else can ever compare," Goodnight said softly, reaching up to cup Billy's face, the man reflexively leaning into the touch, a small smile curling onto his lips.

"What would my family say if they knew I was marrying a white man?" Billy chuckled, pressing a kiss into Goodnight's palm, lips lingering on the newest thin white scar.

Goodnight didn't move, every muscle tense, waiting and watching. Billy's lips curled into a grin, razor sharp and indulgent rolled into one.

"Yes, I'll marry you Goodnight Robicheaux."

Goodnight surged forwards to kiss him, hands desperate and grabbing in Billy's hair, teeth clacking uncomfortably together, the scratch of stubble against soft skin.

"I don't need anyone but you," Goodnight gasped, breaking for air, pressing his forehead against Billy's, one hand releasing him to slip into his pocket, drawing a heavy golden band from his pocket.

Billy stared at the ring, holding up a hand for Goodnight to place in onto his palm.

"I don't have anything like this for you," Billy said seriously, shoulders raising up in reflexive defence, gaze dropping from Goodnight to the ring, turning it over and over in his hands.

"You don't have to wear it," Goodnight began, before falling silent as Billy carefully slipped the glove off his hand, passing the ring back to Goodnight, looking up at him expectantly.

"I will wear it. For you, yeobo."

Goodnight leant down, kissing Billy once more, sweet and soft as he slipped the ring onto his finger.

"Yeobo?" Goodnight asked, striking a match, shivering in the sudden night chill, unable to truly move his eyes away from Billy, his husband, as he was inspecting the ring on his finger.

"Husband," Billy said simply, pulling his glove back on, thumb continuing to tap on the ring as he settled back into his previous position.

Goodnight gazed out over the grass, washed golden by the setting sun, warmed by the steady pressure of his husband lying against his legs, and felt truly content. This would be something he could never regret.


End file.
